130 HIGH SCHOOL'S FINAL EXAM
Damen continued, "Compile the footage of your visit and send it to Garius Zetheris…anonymously of course."
A beat of incredulity crackled over the line.
"You want to do what—sow mistrust between them?" Zairgid snapped. "The Veyrans already refused us. Those videos… those alone isn't proof they're betraying the Zetheris….it only shows the Veyrans rejected us."
Damen folded his arms, thinking. "Exactly. Which is why we would also remove the same footages from Veyran's servers….all of them."
"Why delete it?" Kail asked.
"We found out tonight the Zetheris employ a professional hacker," Damen said. "Once they get our anonymous footage from us, whether they believe or not, they'll probe Veyran's system. If they discover footage that's been erased, that alone will plant doubt."
Kail hesitated. "Are you sure deletion will be convincing enough? I could fabricate AI clips of the meeting—make the betrayal look real."
Damen's smile was thin. "No need for forgeries. Those could be discovered. All we need to do is plant a seed of doubt, then let paranoia do the work. Deleted footage plus tonight's raid is enough to get those two creeps clawing at each other."
Captain Green overhead Damen's conversation.
He gave him a thumbs up before adding, "Boy, you are a master in psychological warfare. If only the Annunakins can fall to your schemes, our war in the space rift would long be over."
Damen merely smiled.
-----
[Melrose City High School No.2]
Damen and Zairgid returned to school after a long absence. The semester was nearly over, and final exams were underway.
For the top students, an advance exam was held ahead of the general batch.
The main school grounds buzzed with activity as technicians installed the massive testing machine.
Meanwhile, in one of the upper halls, Damen sat for the theory portion first. It wasn't an essential part of the final evaluation, but it was a subject he genuinely enjoyed—fringe meta-science.
He finished early, his answers were crisp and confident. Within moments, the AI examiners processed his paper- he's gotten full marks.
Then he made his way to the testing grounds.
Zairgid was already stepping up to the gleaming, dome-shaped chamber at the center. "Hey buddy, I'll go first," he said with a grin.
"Good luck," Damen replied.
Zairgid entered the chamber. Scanners whirred around him, reading every cell, every pulse of energy in his body. Seconds later, the results flashed across the display:
Zairgid Aukouma — Strength: 240 (Max), Meta: 101
The machine could only measure up to Rank D capacity, but everyone knew Zairgid's real strength went beyond that. He'd been taking high-grade elixirs for months; his physical rating was already at Rank C.
The Meta score was lower as expected because the means to enhance those were harder to come by.
"Nice one, buddy," Damen called out as Zairgid stepped down.
Then the principal's voice rang across the grounds.
"The next student to take the test—Damen Dark!"
The crowd stirred.
"Why does he get to skip the line?" someone shouted.
"I haven't even seen him in class all year."
"Who's he supposed to be? Never heard of the Dark family."
Principal Misk ignored the murmurs.
He had a vested interest in Damen. He was the prodigy he'd personally recruited from middle school. If Damen scored well again, it would be another feather in the school's cap.
Damen stepped into the chamber. The hum of scanners filled the air.
Then—an alarm blared.
"What's wrong with the machine?" Principal Misk demanded.
Before the technicians could respond, the results flashed on the screen:
Damen Dark — Strength: 240 (Max), Meta: 240 (Max)
The crowd gasped. Damen had maxed out the testing system on both counts.
Principal Misk broke into applause. "Outstanding! I knew it—Damen Dark, is the pride of our school!"
But the students weren't cheering.
"There's no way a sixteen-year-old can hit Meta Rank C!" one shouted.
"He must've cheated!" cried another.
"We demand a retest!"
Damen stepped out of the chamber in silence, the crowd's whispers chasing him like smoke.
Damen stood quietly at the edge of the testing field, the crowd's disbelief washing over him like static.
He ignored them.
His mind drifted elsewhere—to his experience of the past year.
He'd gone from Rank F to Rank C in less than twelve months, something even the so-called geniuses from the great families couldn't manage, not with all their elixirs and amplification machines.
He'd also risen from a penniless drifter to the owner of a major corporation in Melrose City.
He'd earned the right to be proud.
Still, he couldn't help a faint smile as he remembered the unlikely beginning of it all—the DemCoin mining app. Without it, he might still be digging minerals in the Aur mines, a forgotten laborer with no future.
Then a shift rippled through the gathered students.
A clear line opened in the crowd.
Shawn Zetheris, the notorious school bully, swaggered forward with his usual entourage, their polished shoes crunching on the gravel.
But it wasn't just them.
They were clearing the way for guests—students the others didn't recognize.
"Who are they?" someone whispered.
"They're not from our batch."
"They must be those rich home-schooled types," another murmured. "The ones who only show up for finals to get certified."
It was true—some elite students from wealthier families treated the academy as little more than a formality. They came here merely for a graduation certificate.
Damen turned slightly, uninterested. He had no reason to care until Shawn's voice rang out across the courtyard.
"Damen Dark! You cheat!"
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and heavy.
Damen didn't even look at him.
It was Principal Misk who spoke instead, his tone curt.
"Shawn Zetheris, the school's testing equipment is certified by the city council. Their engineers are right here. There can be no tampering or fraud."
But the crowd wasn't convinced. Murmurs grew louder, swelling into a chorus of doubt.
"There's no way he's Rank C!"
"He must've used some black-market enhancer!"
"He's only sixteen years old—it's impossible!"
Damen turned to leave, unwilling to waste words with them. But as he stepped away, one of the guest students detached from the group and walked toward him.
She was about sixteen, her long crimson hair cascading like molten light in the afternoon sun. Her uniform was immaculate, trimmed with the silver insignia of a private academy.
She moved with calm confidence, her eyes sharp and curious. Her skin was fair, her lips a faint rose, and there was something magnetic—almost dangerous—about the way she studied him, as though she were reading not his face but his soul.
Even the murmurs died down as she approached, each step deliberate, elegant, and assured.
"Damen Dark," she said, stepping close enough that people could hear the faint rasp of her voice. "I've heard about you."
"Who the hell are you?" Damen answered, flat and unmoved.
Her eyes flicked at his rudeness for a heartbeat, then she lifted her chin. "I am Cyara Atheris."